


Crowbait

by VulpusTumultum



Series: Birds of a Feather [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Electric stimulation, First Meetings, From Sex to Love, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, dumb luck, inquisitor's luck, magic used for sexual acts/pleasure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's around 9:36 Dragon, and Zevran Arainai is meandering towards Antiva again, alone in his personal vendetta against the Crows, when an apostate mage with unorthodox skills and rather ridiculous luck wanders into his life. It's a little reminder of how <i>fun</i> things were with a little company.  </p><p>And the enemy of Zev's enemies is, if not a future long-term friend and ally, at the very least, attractive bait and fun while it lasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jehr's magic stuff:  
> I'm handling Jehrin's magic as a combination of DAO/DA2/DAI trees and skills. Basically he's Electricity/Spirit with me considering Knight Enchanter as an offshoot of general "Force Mage" specialization. Iinstead of a staff, he's got a sword like that one from DAO for mages.

Hasmal wasn't the most entertaining of cities, but Zevran Arainai had found it well enough to enjoy some time in a decent tavern rather than on the road in seasonal storms that drove the rain so heavily that it felt more like swimming than walking. And it was a nice tavern- not the most expensive inn or bordello in the city, but still comfortable, home to some rascals without being a dive, employing attractive whores, and well stocked with decent choices of drink plus a small but actual choice in meals.

Normally, the hired lovelies would have been what Zev indulged himself with, but- well, the half-drowned looking young man who'd come into the place while Zev was enjoying dinner downstairs the second day had been hard to ignore. A somewhat set, almost sulky expression on a pretty face that was almost as dark as Zevran's own. Wavy black hair falling into light eyes, and clothing completely plastered to a lean body. Someone who'd had to do quite a lot of traveling in the wet and was _done_ with it for a while- which was an attitude that Zev also could appreciate, since that was certainly why he'd lingered here.

The man was still attractive when he came down again some time after drying off and changing- with a more generally pleasant and even sweet expression, which set off not so much an alarm as an amused thought that no one could possibly look so innocently dashing without being at least partially a scoundrel. He did still wear a longsword on his back, but no matching dagger anywhere on his person, and his clothing was more decorative looking than armored, even when he'd first come in.

So, if a scoundrel, was the other man here on business, or merely to get out of the rain while on his way to business like Zevran himself was? If on business, might it be involving a former Crow? The elf chastised himself for finding the idea so intriguing- clearly his little vacation and rest stop had gone on too long, if he was so desiring attractive _danger,_ rather than just enjoying attraction itself.

And perhaps the handsome young man was a thief rather than assassin, as Zev suspected he'd just witnessed a very smooth operation as the newcomer wandered to where there were open invitations given to a game of Diamondback- he'd stolen another player's purse entirely while settling at the table- or had he?

Oh yes, (as shortly after, the man in question found he couldn't actually bet any money, and a fight broke out), his eyes hadn't deceived him- and then the purse was found, fallen under a chair- except what fell out of it were loaded dice, and _somehow_ during the scrambling, marked cards were in the vicinity as well.

It was highly entertaining to watch the mostly unprofessional brawling from a distance, as the tavern's muscle had to break things up and summon the city guard to haul the supposed cheat off. The pickpocket- and apparently also sleight-of-hand artist- was judged quite innocent of the fuss, if a bit of a coward, and was soon at the bar again, clearly just relieved to not have been bitten by some shark.

Zev admired that kind of skill, both the acting and the deft physical control. Even without being an assassin, this was in some ways a dangerous man. And one shouldn't rule out skill with violence as still a possibility. Assassins did also steal at times, and thieves could kill.

_And I certainly know how to create even more temptation for myself. Such overthinking._

**-0-**

Jehrin Trevelyan (not that he openly used that last name, and sometimes also avoided the first) was much happier now that he wasn't soaking wet, had a purse containing more money than before, and also carried within him now the knowledge that he'd be getting paid again for setting up his mark.

He was a good thief- learn how to steal around a Circle while Templars were always staring, learn how to deal with locks using magic, and you were set once you managed to wriggle away. He just had to stay away, and Nevarra was a good country to do that in, the Chantry and Templars being a little less frustratingly on the look out for apostates- though it still definitely did not pay to advertise.

He felt a slight spark of suspicion over the devastatingly handsome, charming Antivan who had wandered over, but- the odds were very low anyone was seeking him here. The Templars or most others he tended to annoy didn't go in for subtlety, and he really did enjoy listening to that accent. Also enjoyed being flirted with, and flirting back, when things slid that direction, so- why not? It wasn't as if he intended to rush away from a comfortable inn and out into the storms in a hurry.

They wound up in Jehrin's room- their kisses still faintly tasting of brandy, though their drinking had only lasted long enough for enough conversation to show they were both perfectly interested in a night with a good looking scoundrel of some sort.


	2. Uninvited Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an enjoyable one-night stand, some complications arise.

Zev found he'd actually dozed off _again_ \- not long- but still, not something he should have allowed himself, even if things had been pleasantly strenuous, and lasted much longer than he'd expected. Much, _much_ longer, with multiple sessions, and he finally was ready to return to his own room, so he could sleep longer in more relative safety. Even though it was highly doubtful this man was a danger- it didn't pay to sleep beside someone- unless lulling _them_ for professional reasons. Letting oneself go like this would lead to getting soft. And the dozes and deeper moments of sleep he had let himself fall into here had been too much softness already- what had gotten into him, really?

Other than Jehrin, repeatedly, and vice versa.

 _Jehrin_ \- well, it was rather a shame he hadn't shown up earlier in Zev's stay, because it certainly was time for him to be leaving. Find some work, stop lazing around, head back to Antiva and pull at more feathers.

He heard something, and went very still, even as he was drawing his breeches back up on the edge of the bed- a sudden sound cut off in the hallway. On the bed, the other man seemed to still be asleep, or at any rate, mostly so, as he shifted under blankets- which he'd stolen into quite a cocoon at some point after they finished- and mumbled vaguely.

Even though his instincts were warning him something was wrong, Zev had to smile at himself for a job well done if he'd worn _that_ man out. The assassin finished the tie and scooped his daggers up silently- and silently rose, he saw the door's latch moving- assuming his enjoyable one-night lover was innocent of this, there was still no certainty the man would wake quietly if warned. So instead, Zevran just moved so he'd be off to the side of the room, in shadows, and also hidden by the door as it swung open- which it did.

Not just one, but three figures slipped in- door silently being shut behind them- and paused, noticing perhaps only one person on the bed when they expected two. Jehrin tossed and muttered again- and there was a slight tingle to the air, even as the intruders started looking around the room- or rather, two of them did, the middle one heading for the bed, all of them had blades in hand.

Zev smoothly cast a blade with practiced accuracy, even as he was spotted by the one nearest him- though he aimed it to the one going to the bed, since it seemed polite somehow. If Jehrin had been a party to this invasion, they clearly were going to pay him with death, which would make questioning him difficult. His target fell back, choking, as the poisoned blade sunk into his throat.

The tingle in the air sharpened- the target fell, the other two started towards the elven assassin- and Zev instinctively moved his gaze, darting aside, as he saw the start of an eerie purple glow where the attackers had been standing- the glow suddenly became a bright, crackling flash of lightning strike. Their muscles were twitching and they struggled to recover- but Zev only felt that barest tingle again as he dove in and took advantage of it, parrying an attempted strike and tearing into them with daggers.

There was another spell- not a single, vivid flare but smaller lashes of chain lightning over the two men, and Jehrin wasn't pretending to be asleep anymore, but sitting up on the edge of the bed- and flickers of lightning seemed to dance over his skin as well as what Zev recognized as a shimmer of shielding from his old adventures with a certain Warden's company..

Zevran was, he had to admit, completely surprised- the man had been hiding that he was a mage very well- and that he had been awake, aware, and casting a spell while pretending to just toss and turn.

The electric flickering around the apostate ceased, and both men listened for more sounds out of the room for a few moments- though Jehrin also politely reached down and tossed Zev more of his clothing..

Immediately out in the hall was quiet, but it sounded like business was continuing as normal downstairs, and the mage lit the lamp with an almost absent-minded sort of gesture, and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, somehow actually looking half asleep still.

“...So,” the mage brushed his hair out of his eyes, his tone somehow fuzzy with sleep despite the excitement, “Do you have assassins after you, do you think, or no chance? Just curious, because if they're yours, you get to deal with the bodies being in my room, so I can maybe go back to bed and stay in town.”

Zevran was looking over the two who had been hit by Jehrin's lightning, though still keeping an eye on the mage- _surely_ that was an act? And he sighed as he recognized one of them- though surely they weren't after _him_ if they sent such youngsters- unless this was just a distraction.

“Have you irked any very rich Antivans? Crows would mean quite a lot of money spent, my tired friend.”

The apostate groaned, and began to pull on more of his own clothing. “I've barely _been_ to Antiva-”

“And yet you are very quickly giving up on sleeping further- though also still seeming to trust that another Antivan with daggers in your room is not going to also come after you,” Zevran was finding the mage's reactions amusing, intriguing even- the man seemed quite innocent- and yet he'd surreptitiously cast a spell without alerting even one of the best assassins there was of the fact. So perhaps it was confidence, though possibly taken to foolish levels.

“You've had quite a lot of time to stab me already, and yet somehow didn't, unless I'm making a terrible euphemism. And you're not heading out to return to your room, or run off, or any other sane reaction, so maybe you're not sure they are after me- or think more may still have eyes at least in the building?”

They were both fully dressed, the mage slinging his sword into place, and grabbing his pack, but not bothering to pick up anything else that might his around the room. Both were avoiding going near the unshuttered window.

“They knew two people were in here, even if they did not know one was _me-_ I do not see them sending such fledgelings if they did, so I am afraid that it must have been you they were specifically after. They may not have more, if so- it would depend on how seriously you were taken, and how much was paid.”

“Helpful assessment, thank you.”

“If you can trust what I say.”

“You're enjoying saying things like that too much to be lying completely.”

Zevran laughed softly, “That is an....interesting observation-”

Both went still again, and the lamp flickered with another gesture from the mage- but the noise in the hall sounded fairly like a standard drunk. It was likely still an hour before dawn, at the least.

“Andraste's tits,”muttered Jehrin, “I don't suppose, if they are just after me, you are for hire as a bodyguard, and the fee is fairly reasonable for say, helping make sure I get out of this city? And might have ways for extra fees we can discuss later to help find out who might have hired them?”

“Why not- I certainly do not care for them, and if they are after me as well, I will even waive the fee for protecting you at least.”

“Oh good, and if they are _only_ after you, my own rates are fairly reasonable.” A lie, generally speaking he was likely far more expensive than an apostate thief could afford, but this had been so much _fun_ so far.


	3. Sound Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another encounter before the city gates and it could be the start of a highly enjoyable partnership- mages can, after all, come in handy.

The Crows were, apparently, after both of them- and had hired local help, currently circling the mage and former Crow- who had left the tavern via window of Zevran's room and then the roof without having to kill more than two more people, but now had been caught up to in a back street- not too far from a gate out of the city, and yet conspicuously free of things like guards patrolling.

At least the rain was currently not so heavy as to obscure much vision. Zevran felt that slight tingle, even as the confrontation started, like in the inn- and now he _knew_ it meant the mage was starting to cast a spell _already_.

“Imagine our surprise, Arainai, when someone like you was described as the one he'd gone off to a room with. Apparently not to kill him yourself, or did we just inte-”

They really had been focused on Zevran- the brilliant, heavy flare of lightning struck, interrupting the leader _most_ rudely, and sending several nearest to him into convulsions, locking their muscles. Another chain of lightning rattled over the gathered enemies, leaping from one to the next, before most of them had gotten over their apparent shock at the lack of conventional bluster.

“He doesn't have much patience in the mornings, it seems,” Zevran 'apologized' as he took advantage of the surprise- the leader still slowed, if not fully paralyzed by the strike that had stopped his attempted gloating. It was enough to give the elf all the advantage he needed to make short work of him, and move on to deal with the two attackers armed with bows rather than blades- wanting them out quickly as well, before darting back, closer to his ally to better handle those who had to attack from melee range.

Jehrin was again sheathed in sparks and flickers of power- the air around almost alive, and making him uncomfortable, if not outright dangerous, for foes to get near. Zev could feel his skin react to it, shorter hairs on the back of his neck rising, though none of the sparks harmed him, even as they made others swear, jerk away, and twitch in reaction.

The mage had drawn his sword with his left hand- an old, unimpressive looking thing, other than the runes that glowed and flickered over it. And once by Jehrin, for the first time in years, Zevran felt the familiar warmth of a protective shield laying over him. It was almost somewhat nostalgic- and let him be even more daring, working to take out enemies quickly with his poisoned blades.

Jehrin was hard enough pressed that he was getting off fewer of his true spells, but while no great master, he was successfully blocking a few attacks with his blade- even counterattacking.

Mostly, he concentrated on the shields over himself and Zevran, though when suddenly truly tightly pressed, there was a longer, glowing blade briefly in his right hand- ripping into those nearest him with a force to it that shoved attackers, even ones it didn’t actually cut, back and away from him. It was also gone as soon as it had appeared, seemingly something of a 'last resort' for the mage.

Something like that was _not_ a common form of magic, and the confusion some enemies felt made them easy targets for mage and assassin both. The last tried to break and flee finally, but no longer pressing an attack merely gave time for the mage to call down lightning- and slow them so the assassin could finish them off.

The back street grew silent, other than the rain.

Not that there had been much time to give his chance companion and now employer careful study, but Zev had seen enough by the flickering light of magic that while still handsome, there was nothing soft, sleepy, or good-natured about Jehrin's face during such a fight, but a fierce concentration, and possibly even some pleasure in the violence.

He wasn't merely a thief and actor, he was someone who killed when the situation called for it- and something of a dirty fighter, at that. Without Zevran, he would now likely be dead, at least from this large of a group, but he was more dangerous than the Crows assumed him to be.

But now the air's electricity faded, and most of the wilder look was gone from his expression too- although he still looked alert and awake. He also, immediately, though wary of signs of more enemies approaching, started to check bodies for money or small valuables. With a smirk, Zev joined in, the work quick and thorough. Slight profit to be made, although only the actual Crow had gear or money of note.

“So, they were after you too this time, does this mean I can afford to have you look into who's sent them after me? Or does it not count since they were mostly here for me, and just mistook you for a _pleasant_ surprise?”

“I think I can be convinced to currently call us even, and to continue aiding you- but more discussion when we are away from town, yes?”

“Of course. Fair warning, Templars _may_ be after me as well in some places. Possibly not where ever dealing with the Crow issue takes us, but... so far my luck has seemed to skew towards excitement.”

_A few years of being alone, not even the cautious camaraderie that could become treachery from before Ferelden, much less the stranger friendships from those months traveling with the Warden, somehow not nearly as interesting or exciting anymore._

Zev just chuckled. The idea of traveling with someone again for the time it took to deal with the other man's hired-assassins issue was appealing even without money- it was Crows, after all. Though he was hardly going to be so unprofessional as to say so. And luck and chance, skewing towards excitement- well, he'd thought it fate that the Warden had once saved his life, and far less absurd coincidences had been involved there than his saving Jehrin's life so accidentally. Best to see where this, too, led.

And he _had_ always fancied dangerous situations, dangerous and beautiful people- until or unless something caused their goals to cross rather than match- yes there was quite a bit of appeal here. A potential for all manner of fun depending on how the mage felt about mixing business with pleasure.

Ahead of them was the main road, and gate out- the rain began to fall more heavily, helping wash any blood off skin or armor, and the apostate sighed.

“For someone who calls down lightning-”

“It's not the _storms_ I dislike. It's entire days spent traveling in wet clothing- and I _had_ been intending to buy a new cloak today to deal with this.”

There were guards on duty, but they were mostly wanting to stay as dry as they could in their sheltered area- and saw no reason to not just wave two men through. 


	4. No Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran Arainai gets a little more time to observe his companion in (rainy) daylight, and see what he can do beyond fighting or stealing.

“So,” began the assassin, having set a slower pace once out of the city itself, “Perhaps time to begin thinking- Antiva is the most likely place Crows would be hired, of course, but they can be contacted from anywhere. If you wish to find who must be convinced to drop the contract, one way or another- well, it will be someone with pockets so deep they can hire well casually, or so angry they do not mind becoming impoverished.”

“Why go after anyone _without_ deep pockets?” he said it rather absently, clearly running through lists in his head, “Though _that_ deep, and cases where I know they blame me for what happened.. in Antiva I can only think of about three people. Four if I count a captain and his crew, but I don't think they would hire out to the Crows even though he likely has money enough, they'd prefer to do it themselves. However, since you know them- would one have to get whoever ordered it to drop the contract, or would it be dropped if they died? How much pre-payment is usually done?”

“You would have an objection to murdering one who wishes to have you killed?”

The mage smiled coldly, briefly, “Hardly. It seems the simpler route if it would work. And outside of Antiva itself, there... could be a few others I suppose with contacts as well as the money. All things considered I seem the wrong one to send Crows after- I'm usually just a hireling.”

“An unhappy employer, or one who feels you know too much?”

“Not sure why they would call on Crows for a minor thief that got them some bauble or set up a political rival and then left the area. I don't sell myself as being dangerous, just a sneaky bastard son or disinherited wastrel who can blend into society and will do little favors in order to have a comfortable living. Why the expense against a bitter pretty boy that any hireling could stab in a tavern?”

“I take it you do not mention you are a mage or offer services connected to that, then,” Zev of course knew that was certainly the _wise_ way to survive, but at the same time, apostates were paid so much better for their aid than, well, thieves.

“Certainly not. I'm just someone who can play the Game reasonably well for a minor Marcher brat, perhaps pick a lock as well as pocket.”

“And plant a little conveniently found evidence? You _were_ very good, especially for a 'minor' thief.”

“That reminds me, since I need to pay you- if we swing north and around to my last client's estate, perhaps I can collect what she owes me? And while I like to think she hasn't had anyone stop by, asking her about the down-on-his-luck young scoundrel she picked up-”

“Perhaps questions beyond 'where is the money' may be called for? Oh yes, by all means, let us see to it you do not end up owing me _too_ much for this adventure, as well as make sure she didn't sully your deal somehow.”

**-0-**

Zevran had seldom traveled with mages of course- other than his adventures in Fereldan with the Warden Cousland, and neither Wynne in her Circle robes or Morrigan had been the type to pretend they were anything _but_ mages. Of course, during those days, the Wardens had been the ones hunted by the ruler of the land, and Templars had been distracted, easily avoided.

But Jehrin clearly was an apostate of a different feather- it wasn't merely his current troubles with the Crows that made him so wary, as he was on the road to the Endaran Estate. Not a single comment when they conversed was about his magic or being a mage, unless it was Zevran who brought it up, after which it seemed that Jehrin wanted it quickly dropped, even if he responded in a good-natured way. No unthinking use of a spark or spell to warm himself even though he was thoroughly soaked and undoubtedly clammy- well, perhaps he did, but hid it well. He certainly _seemed_ to be irritated over the chill even warm rain caused in time, but then, he was quite the actor.

Arriving at the estate, as he dealt with the gatekeepers and servants- Jehrin suddenly seemed a somewhat sullen and demanding young man of noble or wealthy family, though he never quite became so fully offensive towards the underlings as the role may have really called for. _A limit to what he will do for a role? If so, an interesting one, also likely unwisely noticable._

And now, facing a minor noblewoman who was quite upset by his coming to her home rather than being discreet, he had a little more restlessness in that sulk, like a bit of a brat no longer being supported by family, and willing to do any number of things for coin or a comfortable bed. Zevran had never personally watched someone con not only their target, but their actual client so well, and he was fairly well entertained by the private theatrical production.

“Well I had to hire _someone_ to help me out- somehow from the time he was taken away, I started to have troubles with others after what I took. You wanted him in trouble, and I certainly managed that. You have to have heard by now, he was arrested as a cheat- and I've handed you now all the paperwork he had in his room there as well. But after ducking so many thugs _mysteriously_ after me and possibly these papers, I hardly was staying within the city anywhere, with a guard of my own or not!” the mage sounded sullen, and one might even think he'd had a few drinks to steady his nerves. Like he was suspicious she'd tried cutting her costs by hiring cheaper robbers, but was just broke enough to risk coming to her for the money despite his fears.

From her reaction, Zevran rather had suspicions she _might_ have had plans for what would have happened at the actual meeting place Jehr was supposed to be paid at. But at the same time, while surprised by his arrival, she didn't seem surprised that he was alive and in one piece, and certainly clearly thought he was exaggerating in his tales of narrowly missed death.

“My dear Trevan, I have absolutely no idea why _anyone_ would have been attacking you, if he had others hoping to deal with him somehow themselves perhaps, but certainly it is not my doing, and I rather resent the implied accusation, after all I _have_ done for and offered you. I will certainly pay you as promised, but you _will_ leave my estates and you will have to find another willing to put up with you. Barging in like this, I was rather more certain you were a _discreet_ young man.”

She huffed and sniffed and paid Jehrin, barely glancing to where Zev just lurked at a proper distance and for his own part played the cheap elven hireling- barely worth noticing despite the looks. Just as well to be disdained, since even a noble might realize his armor and blades were anything but cheap- but Jehrin's early complaint that he'd had to use the money he'd gotten off the mark just to afford a hired blade for the day had clearly fixed that reality into her mind.

Idly, he wondered if she'd made such a show of handing the money over to Jehr in the hopes that a cheaply hired blade might take out his employer for such a bonus.

Once back out in the rain and off the estate grounds the mage straightened back out of the slouch he'd gone into, “I'm tempted to suggest waiting til dark and getting into her study for more exploration, but I doubt she gave any information out about me except to anyone she hired herself to meet me at the one inn. Also, I think you're supposed to kill me for this money.”

“But I'll earn so much more in time keeping you alive. And I agree she seems unlikely to have any useful information on the Crows, so whether you wish to break in as a thief- well, up to you, but not part of _my_ job, and I would merely find a comfortable spot to wait and see if you were caught.”

“Mm. I'm not sure if she bought quite enough of the idea that there were others after those papers that she wouldn't suspect me.. and I think at the moment I'll take caution. So, I assume that as we also see if and when more Crows track me, we work our way through those most likely to be the ones hiring them? From here towards Antiva?”

“Since Antiva is where I may be able to learn more even before reaching your suspects- speaking of your suspects, I am curious as to how you suggest handling discovering how likely they are to be responsible? I am forever good at the killing, perhaps the questioning, and the witty replies, but planning-” he did enjoy the skeptical look he got over that, and of course there was an obvious way, but he couldn't help but want to see what the mage would suggest.

“Off the top of my head? Someone quite shady tells them they heard they had issues with someone by whatever name I used with them- and now I regret not letting that one finish his speech or trying to get him to address me. Hearing an assassin mention a name attached to _me_ would certainly help if at some point one doesn't want to talk about you instead.”

Zevran laughed, “I suspect I may be a distraction for most Crows that see me by your side- and most would hardly feel a need to speak with you, I'm afraid, the gloating and announcements are saved for old acquaintances or legends. But this shady character you speak of, does he suggest he might be able to deal with you for them if the price is enough In a charming Antivan accent?”

“How much they are willing to pay, to kill or just for the information seems the easiest way to figure out if more investigation is even needed.”

“Oh quite easy, for most cases yes,” for a moment, Zevran had a sly comment on the tip of his tongue along the lines of ' _but what if they offer enough_ '- but of course, Jehrin may already be thinking similar, and he found really no reason to push it further. He rather liked the idea that the mage actually trusted him to not do such a thing, so why bring it up even as a joke and risk seeing a hint that it was suspected to be a possibility in truth?


	5. More Frightening than Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather unsurprisingly, it turns out there _is_ a group that Jehrin very actively hates and fears, for all that being hunted by Crows hardly ruffles him. Fortunately, other than turning a meal unpleasant, this time the presence of Templars doesn't do any harm.

Almost a week later, stopped for a rest at a tiny village tavern, they were both continuing to be generally enjoying themselves. Zevran was flirting with a rather attractive serving woman, though also enjoying watching his companion as the mage leafed through a battered book that was something of a communal piece of property for any guest. From the look of it, it was a rather trashy serial, the cover though had been in so many spills, drops, and just dirty hands that its title and author were illegible. From the occasional squint of stormcloud eyes and furrow of Jehrin's brow, the interior was at times also as worn and hard to read.

From the twitch to his lips and occasional amused sound, it was at least being found entertaining, if not actually _good_.

The tavern door was open to the outside, the place full of those villagers or travelers wanting a mid-afternoon meal or drink. The noise and chatter lessened, then rose again a little cautiously as a glint of armor heralded four Templars, who looked around with a mix of expressions ranging from grim, or simply weary, to somewhat disdainful of the rather muddy place.

By him, Jehrin didn't set the book down, but the assassin did notice his grip tightened on it before slowly relaxing, the dark-haired mage not looking up entirely from it beyond a glance, his face losing some of the amusement, and what was left of it-

Zevran was rather certain it was not genuine.

As the Templars found a place suiting them for food and drink, the mage quietly leafed further through the book, before finally finishing his drink, closing it, and politely getting up to stuff it back on the rough shelf it had been on before.

His movement was just one of many others going about their business, and didn't get more than a glance from any of the armored men and women. Since now his friendly server was tending the Templars, Zev himself rose as well, handing Jehr his pack and taking up his own, with a brief, cheerful comment of “So how long before we wind up soaked by rain again, do you think?”

Zev chuckled, “There is no way to answer that without jinxing us, my friend,” and headed out after him. It took sharp eyes even for someone who was growing familiar with Jehrin, but to the elf, it was clear his companion was at the very least nervous. Even as the village became a fading location behind them, and they had the road more to themselves, rather than calming, Jehrin just seemed _more_ restlessly hunted. Dropping the mask rather than the mood.

“My admiration of your acting skills grows yet again, but I believe it is fairly clear that if they are hunting anyone, it is not you.” For some reason, that Jehrin was so willing to not act as if all was fine with him as an audience somewhat bothered the assassin.

The mage, meanwhile, actually twitched as if startled that Zevran had spoken. “No... you are right. They didn't even look like they're on any hunt at all. Not enough stick up their asses. If they had been they would have stared at everyone in the room, and likely announced it before eating. They're either on general patrol or carrying some important, but not urgent message.” His tone didn't stay as light as the first two sentences managed, voice flattening. Not that a mage strongly disliking or even fearing Templars was in any way a surprise-

But in truth, sometimes, Zevran had almost forgotten Jehrin _was_ a mage. Never entirely, of course, and sometimes he grew curious about what sort of apostate Jehr was- an escapee from the Circle, or one like Morrigan who had never been caged, just far more used to civilization. Perhaps protected by a family.

Though the striping scars all over the mage's back, seen and felt during that rather lovely first night of meeting, certainly hinted at his having been rebellious, in a place that did not appreciate even a little of such attitude. Attractive to Zevran, really, but the mage tended to not have a bare back to his companion often now, even when actually shirtless in a shared tent, or room- or simply trying to wring out some damp.

“If I may be so impolite, how long have you been free of the cage?”

Jehrin paused, and actually smiled briefly, “I like your wording,” he was silent a moment, then shrugged, “Roughly five years. I get the feeling it may be something of a record.”

Zev whistled, “If not record, still a very impressive time, for an escapee rather than one who had never been caught.”

“Have you known many apostates who never were within a Circle?”

The elf chuckled, “Not often for long if on business, of course, but some. Certainly one apostate for several months some years ago, also a Circle mage for that same time, she would have been highly insulted to be called an apostate, however, and returned to her Tower when the business at hand was done.”

“I've... known the type. _Comfortable._ ” Jehrin sounded as if the word was an insult to some degree, “She and the 'wild' apostate got on like a house on fire I imagine.”

“Oh not entire house, merely kitchen, perhaps. No one needing to completely evacuate, but best to duck the smoke.”

That actually made Jehrin laugh, and the assassin couldn't quite resist beginning a few of the actual stories as they walked. Not quite as fun as flirting with the mage, perhaps, but another way to pass some time.


	6. Relieved Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As unwise as it might be to give an assassin more trust, it seems that since the conversation after the Templars, Jehrin does trust Zevran a little more- or at least hopes he can. Being able to _be_ a mage rather than play it down even in company is something he's likely not used to.

A day and a half later, and it was time again for flirtation, not storytelling- eventually, at least. First it was merely Zev teasing his companion. His increasingly attractive companion.

“And that, my friend, is why you should switch to proper leather armor if it will not impede your spells- or start wearing darker colors. Black, perhaps? It would make you look so very dramatic.”

“I don't want to look _dramatic_ , I want to look harmless, and not overly memorable on the whole,” Jehr had stripped to the waist and was working at a very large bloodstain that was quite noticeable on a light blue shirt. They had encountered some would be robbers- it hadn't taken long to deal with them, but there had been a bit of mess towards the end.

Which meant that if one was say, seated a bit across the camp from him, that person could watch him fuss beside the brook. Perhaps enjoy how his lean muscles moved along his lash-scarred back, or how kneeling tightened his pants along his ass and thighs while he got what he could out of the fabric at least. Should one even find such things interesting or entertaining, of course.

“A color that brought out your eyes as that one did was not helpful to your goals either, then,” Zevran chuckled, having found a good spot to sit for the show, “Although, granted, you are traveling with _me_ , so attentions and memories have been divided. But unless you can magic the stains out, I do believe it a lost cause, with it having had time to dry, and being out here in the middle of nowhere as we are. By all means, keep trying, however, it makes the stream far more picturesque.”

The mage snorted and tossed the wet shirt towards him with an accurate fling, the elven assassin ducking and smirking. They were still heading through Nevarra to Antiva, and Zev was enjoying their chance partnership. Although since the night they'd actually met, it had been a chaste sort of business partnership, despite the fact that unlike his previous traveling companions, Jehrin was far more willing to be entertained with flirtation, and even return any innuendo or suggestions.

This chastity would have been a little less distracting over time if that first night hadn't been so enjoyable before the assassins had crept into the room. Or if Jehrin had proven irritating in some way to travel and fight alongside. But even though in the last days again in particular he _had_ seen some of the darker moods that could drift through the younger man, Zevran was enjoying his company enough to still entertain notions of continuing more than a strictly business affair. In fact, watching him fight again today had rather brought those thoughts into sharper focus.

“Unfortunately, of all the more unorthodox uses I've learned to put magic to, cleaning is not one of them. Though perhaps I'll work out the theory next time I'm able to sit with some tea and a bunch of papers and books.” The mage pushed dark hair out of his face and drifted away from the stream to drop down and share the elf's rock as a seat. Since the not-exactly-encounter with Templars, and the beginning of Zevran's stories from Fereldan, Jehrin had become a little more talkative about magic, and the assassin suspected he was using it more, even if still subtly. Something like another little layer of trust for the former Crow, perhaps, that he no longer felt he had to play down what he was.

“And now I'm curious as to what mages possibly consider 'unorthodox'.”

Jehrin chuckled, just the faintest bit of edge for a moment, “Well, if in a Circle, at least, anything not immediately useful to the Chantry? But one specific example: I didn't actually have any oil in my room the night we met,” the mage smiled, a fast, wicked, sort of smile, “I hadn't been expecting side entertainments. Not that it's an uncommon trick, but it's not one taught _officially_. Bottle actually had stuff in it you really wouldn't want on sensitive skin.”

“A useful application in more than one way,” the elf chuckled, “And done so smoothly, as well, one might doubt your claim- if I wasn't so certain you were a completely honest sort, of course.”

Jehrin laughed, “Well if you ever start to doubt, it's certainly easy enough to demonstrate,” there was a decided invitation, somewhat cautious, but there, in his tone. And the way he leaned back, weight on arms and hands casually as there was nothing to lean back against, someone schooled in spotting such things might just consider it a deliberate move as well.

So, perhaps they had been thinking along the same lines today, stopping so early. Zev's smile widened slightly. Of course there could be reasons beyond simple pleasure for the mage to be baiting him so, ranging from hoping to get him more attached to lowering his prices- but both were certainly unlikely with just a few entertainments. And from what he had seen of the mage, it could very well just be from a desire for entertainment, a bit of danger, bedding an assassin.

Much like his own very simple desires for the mage. Fun while it lasts, and not knowing nearly enough about him and his abilities for it to be truly _safe_. And while the camp was against sheltering rocks and fallen trees, and it was early, light enough that most predators were not yet prowling, it was certainly no locked room.

“What an intriguing idea, perhaps I should take you up on that offer, even without doubts.”

“If you really want to take and compare notes, I might even have more tricks to demonstrate. Be interesting to find out what you've seen before.”

Zevran chuckled, “Oh yes, I enjoy taking, and exchanging... notes. Things other than notes-” he reached out, hand onto the mage's shoulder- and when Jehr leaned into the touch, he slid it along the golden brown skin that almost matched his own, to the far shoulder and pulled him closer.

“I noticed some of that a couple of weeks ago,” the mage flashed him a wicked smile before leaning in further to kiss where Zev's jaw and neck joined beneath a pointed ear and sliding an arm around him from the front- based on the night of their meeting and this growing eagerness, slow, patient, and savoring were not in Jehrin's typical methodologies.

_Something to explore at some point._ Right _now_ however, Zevran was quite taken with the eagerness, all things, and helped it along by easily twisting his body around and only momentarily rising, to wind up dropping down against the mage's lap, straddling with knees to either side of his slender hips, and grinding in just a little, smiling teasingly at him.

Jehr made a hot little sound and snaked his arms around the elf, one hand getting into blonde hair and pulling him into a hungry kiss, one that Zev drew out to be longer, fingers tracing over his back, tugging lightly at the ends of his long hair, and wriggling his hips in until he had Jehrin moaning more loudly.

Not that the dark haired pretty hadn't managed to win some noise out of him, with a hand managing to work under leather armor so fingers could better press along the base of his spine, encouraging the grinding.

“Zev- you really fine with magic, or prefer to keep it to the one spell?”

The elf smiled at the considerate double-checking, even as he felt the import of the question slide down his spine. He'd bedded mages before, in the line of business, and a few had used their magic in interesting ways- pleasant and unpleasantly so.

There was an almost pleading note to the question that he hadn't heard before, from them or even Jehrin, and it aroused even more curiosity in him. A suggestion that being able to use his gift was something the mage craved as much as anything else. Zev nuzzled at the man's soft neck, enjoying the responsive swallow and groan. Jehr was being _entirely_ too sweet.

“Mmm, well I think we have a very good gentleman's agreement, yes? I'm not assassinating you, and you are not swindling me. So by all means, work some actual magic if you enjoy doing so. And I will tell you if you must stop.”

A breath like relief from the dark haired mage, and a smile that Zev suspected could stop some weaker hearts outright, before Jehr fell back to kissing him with increasing heat and began to work at straps and fastenings for armor. At that, Zev managed to draw back and rise- despite very strong temptation not to- tugging Jehr right up with him and getting him steered towards the tent. Best to not wind up with armor and weapons _too_ scattered by enthusiasm. Besides, while no soft bed, the blankets were still preferable to uncovered ground or rocks.


	7. A Minor Magical Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure. Also magic with pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content stuff: Explicit sexual acts. Magic used for sexual/pleasurable acts.

Once in the shelter, Zevran was every bit as enthusiastic about removing armor and clothing, until they were both half, mostly, then fully naked, as Jehr tugged and rolled smallclothes down the elf's legs as the last fabric to be tossed aside, kissing golden brown skin, and his hands beginning to leave thick, slick trails where fingers or palms touched, stroking up and down muscle.

Zev groaned in pleasure and murmured praise and endearments, catching one hand into wavy black hair, and with the other, petting Jehr's skin as the mage worked his way upwards until his mouth was at Zev's throat, their cocks were twitching and rubbing, reaching with an oily hand to stroke them even further together, and make sure they were just as well slicked.

And then came the first actual tingling touch, fingers that were on Zev's chest rather than lower sent a sudden _buzz_ along oiled flesh, strongest where the fingers were but following where he'd left trails until fading to nothing. It was, most certainly, a trick the assassin had never encountered before, and one that made him arch in shock, swearing briefly in Antivan before tugging Jehrin up for a kiss.

“That- was _good,”_ he encouraged a little breathlessly, because almost as good as that moment was the realization there were many more trails his lover had made over his skin for the faint lightning to run down.

Jehr smiled and kissed back, then kissed again, before proving to Zevran that the assassin's original assessment may have been off on how patient and slow the mage _could_ be, as he straightened, straddling the assassin to relentlessly tease with his fingers and hands, including stroking their cocks together. When one or both or one hand was _not_ on their cocks, Jehrin used that spark _just_ often enough to make his lover arch, and leave skin and muscle tight and shivering.

Worse- or rather, better- he was enjoying his own magic, and letting Zev _watch_ as the mage's own skin shuddered, with him breathless and body curving after making the assassin react so similarly, the actual flash of tiny lightning only barely able to be seen, gone so quickly.

Zevran wasn't pinned, or bound, able and eager to catch and touch Jehr's hands, or reaching to also stroke, though when he did it was more for Jehrin, the Antivan murmuring further encouragement and endearments that got rather dirtier as time went on, while the mage seldom really _spoke,_ and the sounds he did make were quiet little things, though already from their first time, Zevran did know one could get him to be a little louder-

And then there was that buzz from Jehr's fingers wrapped around and stroking their cocks rather than anywhere he'd previously done it, and Zev himself swore _much_ more loudly in shocked pleasure. It was _entirely_ too soon and yet if there was another shock like _that,_ it was entirely likely Zev, if not both of them, would come.

The beautiful mage so driving him wild had bitten his lower lip rather than cry out- and that was far, far too much to take lying down, with everything _else_. Zev sat up, and pulled him into a much wilder, almost frantic kiss, sucking on Jehr's lower lip in between that one and another, even deeper one, wanting every bit of the sweetness the mage could offer. The air around them had just the slightest of charge to it, enough to make shorter hairs want to stand on end or skin shiver,

“If you wished to drive me to desperation, you succeeded very admirably-” Zev 'accused' him, feeling along Jehr's back as the mage panted and kissed now at his neck and shoulders, “And unless you in fact, did have other plans, I would like to work just a little of my own magic until you are in even more a state yourself, and see to it you are quite _thoroughly_ ravished.” He slid one hand down further, enjoying how the mage's body wanted to press back so hard into it, especially Jehrin's ass when palm and fingers got so low.

“Sounds _good_ -” the mage only just managed to give his agreement to that little plan, when Zev started to carry it out, getting out from under Jehr but keeping him still on knees, catching the mage's hands in his own.

“Mmm, perhaps if you could spell up a little more slickness, Pretty? The earlier spell seems to be fading.”

Eventually he really would have to introduce Jehrin to some of the more delightful oils popular in Antiva, with their subtle (and not so subtle at times) herbs or scents, but this was certainly a _most_ useful magic trick even without the lightning added. And sexy in and of itself, feeling it pool between their hands from nothingness, so that he could start to properly tease down Jehrin's skin with it now, even as he kissed him again.

Zevran was kneeling before the mage, and while his lips and tongue teased down Jehr's face and neck, along shoulders or chest, his hands stroked down, teasing, not as slow as he could, but wanting still to allow some cooldown for himself, and savor getting Jehrin further worked up, letting him cling and dig fingers into Zev's back. And oh yes, the mage's nails- slightly longer than would be on an actual warrior or fighter, though not so long as to scratch too easily or deeply- they felt good as well.

Zev stroked down and around his hips, one hand returning to Jehrin's length, hard and pearled with precum, and down along his balls, making him rock back into the other. The elf started paying more attention to that ass, teasing down the cleft, all the way down, right past the tight pucker, eliciting a desperate noise as he got all the way to balls, then moved back up, to start spreading him and slide a slick finger in. He stopped pleasuring the mage's cock entirely, beyond the rubbing from their winding up closer together yet, but kissed him as Jehrin whimpered, stretching him, another finger sliding in, pushing deeper and rubbing against his prostate to watch the reaction.

It was such a _lovely_ reaction, parted lips, widening eyes and curving spine, He could likely watch this pretty young man squirm and flutter for days without growing tired of it. Perhaps a theory to test at some point before parting ways. But here and now, his restraint was at as much an end as Jehrin's clearly was.

“Maker- _Zev, please-”_ the mage' voice was pleading with a slight edge from frustration.

“Oh, I _fully_ intend to, lovely. Slick me a little more-” Zevran would have perhaps chuckled at the eagerness of the hand being lowered to their hard and waiting cocks, if he hadn't been so quickly groaning at the slick fingers, and then crying out as the mage used that pleasant spark of a spell again, though he'd half wondered if the mage _would_ , it still was such a pleasantly maddening thing when it happened.

Quickly the elf lifted him a little to make it easier to press him back from his knees, Jehr letting go of him and squirming on the blankets, fingers digging at the fabric as Zevran got him onto his back, and took a long appreciative look before taking Jehrin's bent and spread legs to lift them against his body as he pulled the mage's sweet, waiting ass in and up into position to thrust smoothly.

Jehrin cried out, hips rocking hungrily, eager and completely wanton, and Zev did his best to tell him just how sweet and desirable he was, though the words were hardly smoothly charming, with how much his own breath caught in pleasure. The assassin thrust deeply and eagerly, enjoying the tight clenching, trembling, and what sounds the mage let himself make, always loudest when that sweet spot had been hit.

Still only _comparatively_ loud, but more than enough to urge Zevran to continue to give him such pleasure, wanting to feel the lean, pretty body bear down and spasm before his own release, wanting that to be what _gave_ him his.

Fortunately, it didn't take much longer before Jehrin was pushed over that edge, his hips rocking so that his ass slammed harder than before and his body shuddered desperately, muscles clenching as he couldn't entirely bite back his relieved, wordless cry. Zevran echoing it shortly after,

The former Crow slowed, trying to catch his breath, at first in no great hurry to draw out, sliding fingers along the legs still up against him and over his shoulders, but finally he did, wanting to be able to really kiss Jehrin's still parted lips, tangling against him lazily.

 

Later they both would clean up, then sleep with distance between them again, after a little idle and satisfied talk that really only barely involved what they'd done, and certainly didn't say anything about future dalliance plans.

Easy come, and easy go was clearly and certainly what this would be, making the tasks at hand and travels pleasant.

And eventually, they would part ways, as companions brought together by one task always did.


End file.
